


Aid and Comfort

by Ovipositivity



Series: Folk [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Human/Monster Romance, Human/Monster Society, Modern Era, Romance, Trans Male Character, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 11:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ovipositivity/pseuds/Ovipositivity
Summary: Sophitia Chass's personal assistant mourns her death.





	Aid and Comfort

You know something’s wrong the moment you get home. It’s not a feeling, or something in the air; it’s not a deep and abiding emotional connection that transcends space and time with the bonds of love. It’s your doorknob. The wood around it is covered in deep divots and the knob’s been half-pulled out of the frame.

“Fuck,” you say to yourself. And again: “Fuck.”

  
You push the door open gently and sidle inside. The lights are all off, but now that you’re in, you can smell trouble, too. In this apartment, trouble smells like wet dog.    
  
“Honey?” you call. The only answer is a low, angry growl. But it comes from the hallway to your right, so you know where Judith is.

  
You find her where you thought you would: curled up in her basket at the foot of your bed. She’s just a dark shape hulking against the darker gloom. You tap the switch next to the door and the room fills with soft yellow light, outlining the furry pile on the basket. You sigh. She wasn’t due for another two weeks. If she’s Changed now, something really awful must have happened.

“Judith,” you begin, and the sound of her name elicits another growl. Despite everything, this one sends a chill up your spine. It’s nothing you can help. It’s bred in the bone: modulated like that, a wet growl means sudden, violent death for anything human-shaped. You know you’re in no danger, but millennia of evolution are pressing on the base of your brainstem and telling you that you need to run away  _ right now _ . Or at least find a tree to climb.

You don’t run or climb. You sit down in your bed with a weary sigh. “Judith, honey, what’s wrong?’

She shifts around in her basket and looks up at you. In this form, her face is incredibly expressive; it’s somewhere between human and wolf, with wide and soulful eyes and a tuft of blonde hair between the ears. She’s been crying. You can tell that right away.

“Didn’ you… hearrrrr?” she says. God, she must really be fucked up. Normally she’s as eloquent in either form. You notice the torn shreds of her charcoal skirtsuit still clinging to her upper body. So she didn’t even have time to change before she Changed. And she was either at work, or just coming home from it. Was she  _ fired _ ? Was that it? You know she loves her job, loves her boss… that might explain…

  
“No,” you say. “TVs at the bar were all turned to the game. Paladins won.” You smile, trying to inject a little levity into the situation. It doesn’t work.

“It’s Sophitia,” she growls, and lapses into a sob. 

  
“Oh, honey,” you say. “Did you get into a fight? What did she do this time?”

“She’s  _ dead! _ ” Judith wails, and then howls loudly enough to make you jump. It goes on and on, a primal expression of grief torn right out of her chest. Her eyes are closed and her muzzle points toward the ceiling. Fresh tears matt the fur of her cheeks.

In a flash, you’re off the bed and wrapping your arms around her. She flinches in surprise, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she curls up in your arms and lays her head on your shoulder. You can feel the wetness soaking into your sleeves.

  
“Oh, I am so, so sorry,” you murmur. You rock her back and forth. “Oh, my poor dear. And poor Sophitia. What happened?”

  
“Murrrrrderrrr!” Judith growls again. She can’t help it. You can feel the mingled rage and grief rising off her. You don’t need to be an ichthys to pick up on that.

You have nothing to say to that, so you just lie there and hold her and wait for her breathing to return to normal. You aren’t sure how long the two of you lie there tangled up in each other. Her heart is thundering loudly enough for you to hear it. Her breath fogs up your glasses. She’s clinging to you with desperate intensity like a drowning woman with a life preserver. Eventually your stomach gurgles. “Judith, honey?” you ask. “Do you want me to make dinner?”

She nods. It takes you another five minutes to extricate yourself, but you manage it. You leave her there, slumped in her basket, and make for the kitchen.

Luckily, you bought steaks for this week. You were planning to saute them, but needs must. Yours, you roll in a marinade that you made last night and pan-fry. Hers, you barely heat up. You plate them, grab a couple of beers from the fridge, then put the whole shebang on a tray and carry it into the bedroom.

She’s still where you left her. At some point since you left, she turned on the TV and she’s been watching it with the sound off. Local news, of course. The picture shows a cluster of police cars outside a building you recognize as the Museum of Folk Art. You figure out what’s going on at once, but when you move your hand towards the remote, Judith snarls at you so viciously that you yank your hand back.    
  
“I’m sorrrrry!” she manages. “I’m… I’m…”

  
“It’s alright.” You can’t imagine what she’s going through right now. You only met Sophitia Chass a few times at official functions, but Judith  _ loved _ her boss. She would always come home babbling happily about some function that had gone off without a hitch or some partnership Ms. Chass was brainstorming. Judith’s job was to keep her schedule, write her speeches, answer her phones… and sometimes pick up her laundry, order her takeout, and dry her tears. Over the years the two had developed a close working relationship, and truth be told, you had been a bit jealous. Of course, Judith had never shown any interest in women of any species… but that just fed your deep-down insecurities, the fears you didn’t dare voice even in your most private moments.

You try to push all that aside. It’s unworthy of you right now. You hand Judith her steak and she tears into it with gusto. You chew more thoughtfully and the two of you watch the subtitles crawl across the screen. Local Philanthropist Found Murdered. No Person Of Interest At This Time. Chass Was Arts Patron. A headshot of her smiling face, and later, a group shot at some fundraiser. There’s Judith, just over Chass’s left shoulder. She looks fully human in that picture if you don’t know the subtle tells. A little elongation of the ears. Hair that could be more accurately described as a mane.

“How did you find out?” you ask quietly. 

“I went in this morrrrrning and the office was full of cops,” she says, half-muffled by steak. “When they figurrrrred out who I was they asked a bunch of questions. I thought maybe… financial crimes or something, one of ourrrrrr accountants stealing… I neverrrr thought this…”

She stabs one claw into the remote and the TV winks off. She turns to you and grabs your collar. “Please, Y/N,” she says. Her voice is trembling and cracking. “Please. I need you. Tonight.”

You don’t have to ask her what she means. You can feel the need, smell it almost. It’s radiating off of her. She’s handsy with you for the rest of the night, her claws tracing up the small of your back or creeping inside your thigh, and when you have to get up to clear the dishes, she whines like a scared puppy. “I’ll be right back,” you promise. “Get ready.”

You drop the dishes in the sink and make for the bathroom. You shrug out of your shirt and take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror. Your beard’s coming in well-- it’s just a chinstrap now, but it’s thick enough that you no longer feel like a self-conscious teenager. People expect a bartender to have a beard. It makes you look cool. And it’s not like Judith can complain about excess body hair. A year ago, you couldn’t meet the gaze of the man in the mirror. Now… now, he’s starting to look like a guy who has it together.    
  
You peel the patch off your upper arm, wince a little, and slap a fresh one on. Your skin’s getting a little irritated, and you tell yourself to switch arms next time. You drop your pants and boxers. Then you open the closet and retrieve your cock.

It’s an impressive specimen, if you do say so yourself. It’s silicon and PVC, black, with a flared tip and a few veins along its surface for realism. The base is a thick knot, thicker than your fist. Judith loves it. She hated only dating werewolves, but most guys wouldn’t wear something this impressive for her. Well, you’re not most guys. 

The straps slide easily over your legs and cinch tight. There’s a little bullet vibrator built into the harness and it nestles against your cl-- your dick. You look at yourself one more time and thrust your hips once or twice. Alright. Showtime.

When you return to the bedroom, Judith is already lying in bed. Her eyes stray to your hips and she beckons you closer. You jump up next to her and wrap your arms around her. It’s hard to kiss her when she’s Changed, but you try anyways. Her tongue, wide and flat and wet, slips in and out of your mouth and caresses your cheeks. She’s breathing hard, growling and whining, and her teeth graze your neck. An electric little thrill tingles up your spine. Sometimes, you like to play predator/prey games… though more often than not, she’s the prey. She loves to be run down, wrestled to the floor, and then fucked until neither of you can see straight. That’s not what tonight is going to be. Tonight is about need.

  
One of your hands slips between her legs and her thighs part easily before you. Your questing fingers burrow through her fur to the wet cleft of her sex. You rub along the outside of her labia, your fingers moving in tandem up and down. You squeeze gently at the pearl of her clit and are rewarded by a soft moan. It’s stiffening between your fingers. You squeeze again, then slide your fingers along her mound. Normally, you’d take your time warming her up, getting her nice and wet. By the feel of it, she started without you. She’s already sopping.

She climbs onto her hands and knees and thrusts her ass out towards you. Her tail twitches out of the way. The wet pink slit of her cunt beckons you. You don’t need any clearer of an invitation. You thumb the vibrator switch and as it buzzes to life, thrust your cock inside her.

She gasps at the sudden fullness. You can feel her muscles clenching, pushing against you. You sink your fingers in the soft fur of her hips and push back. You’re starting her off easy, leaving the knot outside. No need to hurry. You fall into a regular pumping motion. Her juices glisten on the silicon toy, and every time you bottom out the vibrator presses against your body with a delicious little hum. You lean over her as you thrust, pressing her head and shoulders flat against the bed, pressing the weight of your body down on her. One hand reaches around her waist to rub her clit. She groans and yields to your pressure. Little by little you flatten her into the sheets until you’re lying on top of her and thrust down. Each jerk of your hips makes her legs shake and her upper body quiver. “Morrrrre,” she growls softly. “Give me morrrrre!”

Your pumping increases in tempo. The first half-inch or so of the knot is pressing into her now with each movement. You can see the dark stain moving farther and farther along the bulbous knot when you look down. The vibrator, too, is pushing hard and harder against you. Sweat drips off your forehead and down your cheeks. Judith squirms beneath you, trying to grind her body into yours. You can feel the fire in her heart, the wild, untamed savagery. Is it joy or grief or lust or rage or love? Is there a difference? It crackles beneath her skin and earths itself through you and you feel faint echoes of the emotions that must be raging through her right now: an echo of her grief, a shadow of her desire, a mirror of her need. It spurs you on to greater heights. The breath rattles in your lungs. Your fire burns too, and just as two flames brought close together become one, the two of you are burning  _ together _ now,  _ fused _ , creating something brighter and hotter and wetter and riper and deeper than either could alone. 

You’re barely aware when the rest of your knot slips inside, but you feel it a moment later, when you try to withdraw and can’t. Judith takes a deep breath and howls in pure ecstasy. You can feel it sailing past you, carried on the howl: all of the emotions she can’t handle, the grief that threatens to drown her and the lust that threatens to burn her alive, all bundled up and carried away on the wind. You howl too, you voice sounding thin and reedy next to the proud and powerful roar from her throat. Together they make a harmony that bounces off the walls and echoes in your head. The howl goes on and on and on and just when you think you can’t take it anymore the wave of pleasure crests inside you and you cum. Your legs spasm, your toes curl, your hands beat spasmodically against the bedsheets. You cry out again, you think, though all you can hear is the howl reverberating in your head. Judith is coming too, you think, though it’s sometimes hard to tell when she’s Changed; she’s growling and thrashing beneath you. Spittle flies from her jaws. She never sounds so feral as when she’s in the throes of orgasm. 

The two of you lie there, tied together, for what feels like an eternity. Judith’s panting and occasionally she spasms. She’s stretched around your knot. Neither of you can move, at least not yet; you just lie there, totally drained, and listen to her heart beat in time with your own.

After a while the sound of her breathing changes and you realize she’s crying. She’s being as quiet as she can. Sobs wrack her chest and tears trickle down the sides of her muzzle. “Oh, god, baby, I’m sorry,” you whisper, but she shakes her head. 

  
“Needed you tonight,” she growls. “Needed… this.”

“I love you, Judith,” you say. She murmurs back on the edge of hearing.

  
“Love you too.”


End file.
